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chapter six; wake-up calls, and rats
Amaya kissed James Potter. Twice. Rest assured there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for both times.
If anyone asked that's what she'd tell them. She'd tell that person, that the first kiss meant nothing, it was just Amaya being grateful for him staying with her when she needed him, and that the second kiss was a drunken mistake. Perfectly reasonable explanations.
Both of them were bullshit. She knew it. The girls knew it. Even James had to know it.
The first time it happened, that morning, Amaya couldn't not have kissed him—well, she could have, but she didn't want to.
She'd woken up in the morning and for the first time in days, she truly felt rested. Her muscles were relaxed, her head was free of aches, her heart felt light, and she felt...happy. She also felt safe, especially considering the way James' arm weighed down on her waist.
They'd moved as they slept, and now they were each on one side of the bed. Amaya was lying on her back, and James in his stomach. His face was turned to hers, and she couldn't help but smile at the peace in his features. His lashes fanned over his cheeks, his mouth partially open and his jaw still as sharp as ever. His hair of course was a complete disaster.
Amaya gently rolled to her side, closer to him, and nearly giggled when in his sleep he just moved so he was laying on his side too, and dragged her along so she was nestled against him.
She'd been happy. And she wanted to kiss him. It was as simple as that. She traced his features with her finger, basking in the feeling of being in his arms. When she brushed her thumb against his bottom lip, resisting the urge to press her lips to his, he'd teasingly nipped on her finger, waking her out of her lust-induced stupor.
She'd shoved his shoulder, called him an arsehole, and had made an effort not to shiver as his hand trailed her spine and he smiled. That morning was heaven, they'd joke together, they'd laughed, she almost kissed him a couple of times, and he almost kissed her too.
And when he was leaving, Amaya's logical side was won over by the side of her that had fallen for James Potter. She'd grabbed his hand and thanked him for staying with a peck on his lips.
The boy had turned scarlet and awkward and walked away leaving her in her bed with a huge grin on her face. Her nightmares were forgotten and all that was left was pure. She wasn't sure what it was, or perhaps she was but was scared to admit it at that moment, but every part of her wanted him to come back and kiss her until she couldn't think straight.
That first kiss wasn't because she was grateful—though she had been—and Amaya knew that.
And the second? The one she was pretending she didn't remember due to being drunk. That one was because James was looking at her like she was the only girl in the world. Her inhibitions were gone and all that was left was desire. And she wanted him.
